


In pais

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Bathtub, Dark Loki, Dark fic, Dark!Loki, F/M, Fic, Loki - Freeform, Medieval AU, dark!fic, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: This is dark!prince!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. It include noncon and other dark elements.Summary: A prince visits your father’s inn.
Relationships: Loki/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 216





	In pais

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, let’s make it clear that @lokislastlove is always responsible for Loki drivel. Secondly, I am here and there with writing, I’ve pretty much decided to write when I want to and what I want to. I’m going to stop holding myself to ridiculous schedules and deadlines that aren’t real. My anxiety is wild y’all.
> 
> Also, unofficially in my head and heart, considering this like a sister fic to Droit du seigneur.
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy!
> 
> Let me know what you think! (leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

You shouldered your way out of the small barn. You were careful not to slosh the milk over the side of the bucket as you rounded the inn. The top would be skimmed and cream could be served for dessert, although your father’s tavern was not very busy that day. It was never bustling, merely a stop for most on a much longer road. Few stayed the night, usually opting for an ale and a meal before leaving.

Hooves pounded the dust and you stopped to watch the party of men on their galloping horses. You feared they would trample the fence as they neared and you backed up against the front of the inn, just feet away from the front door. Dirt powdered the air and the horse slowed before the fence that closed in the livestock.

A lithe man swung off a dark stallion, his own hair a similar shade of black that hung down his shoulders. His green cape swished around him and the other men dismounted with less grace. One of them approached; noblemen by the velvet of their capes and the silver on their belts.

“Rooms for the night,” He jangled a purse as his wavy orange hair fell forward over his brow. “And as much wine as you have.”

“We’ve more ale than wine,” You returned as you shifted the weight of the pail.

“Either will do,” The taller man with the black hair strode forward and slapped his gloves against his palm. His lip curled as he peered up at the inn. “I suppose we’ll have to take what we can get here.”

You looked between them and the other men traipsed behind as they chattered noisily. The black-haired noble looked down at you sharply.

“Well, little mouse, take your milk and prepare our quarters,” He nodded to the other man who waved the purse in your direction. “Or do you only tend to the animals?”

“My lord,” You cradled the bucket with one arm and snatched the purse. “All will be arranged. I will inform the inkeep of your arrival.”

“I suppose venison would be out of the question,” He ventured.

“Rabbit or hen.” You countered. “My lord.”

“Your highness, actually,” He corrected. “Prince, if you must.”

You squeezed the purse and nodded as your brows twitched. “Your highness.” You repeated and bowed as well as you could with your armful. “If you follow me, might take a left after we enter and seat yourself in the common room.”

You spun on your heel and continued your path to the front door. You pushed through with your hip and called to Celeste. “Party of five. Is there any wine left?”

“We’ve a cask from Mirraine,” She said. “Bitter red.”

“Fetch that and a barrel of ale,” You passed the front counter where she sat and wove thread around a frame. “And show these lords to the tables. I’ll tell Giles to hurry.”

“And your father?” She asked.

“He’s your husband.” You shrugged. “I thought he was still abed.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for hiding there for your nagging,” She stood. “He is in the kitchen.”

You stopped as she neared the end of the counter and lowered your voice. “Save that sharp tongue for me, stepmother. A prince will not be so tolerant.”

“Prince?” Her lashes fluttered and she smoothed her apron. “Perhaps you should bide your own warning.”

She brushed past you and you continued down the hallway between the counter and the stairs that led to the mostly vacant rooms. You swung the door open with your foot and passed through to plop the pail on the table within. Giles yawned as he sat on a stool and stared at the fire stove. Your father swirled a stein and watched the foam thin.

“We’ve customers. Rooms and dinner, expected.” You announced. “Noblemen… and a prince.”

Your father’s stein slammed on the table. He blanched and Giles gave another disinterested yawn.

“What’s on the spit today?” Your father hissed at the cook.

“Rabbit?” Giles frowned. “I think.”

“Aye, you fool,” Your father smacked the back of his head. “A prince you said?”

“Yes. Black hair. I suppose it is the younger.” You answered.

“Loki,” Your father coughed. “Shit.”

“You know a prince, father?” You challenged.

“Know of him,” Your father said. “Don’t be a mare, daughter.”

“There should be enough cream for a dessert.” You offered. “We’ve flour. A pastry could be devised.”

“Where is your mother?”

“Your wife? Why she’s entertaining the prince and his men.” You scoffed. “Think I saw her pinch her cheeks to try to get some colour back in her jowls.”

“Don’t be so crass. Go, send her to bake the dessert then and take some cups for our guests.” Your father spat. “And smile. You look at the prince like that and he might march us all to the scaffold.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” You grabbed a tray and loaded it with empty steins and a few goblets. “If anything, it will be Celeste who has us whipped.”

Your father snorted darkly and you turned with your fare. You pushed through the door once more and made your way to the front room where the men sat around one of the round tables. You neared as your stepmother giggled, a piglike noise, and you stopped beside her.

“Father would have you prepare dessert,” You said to Celeste as you neared. “Did you send for the kegs?”

“The stable boy had run to fetch them,” She sneered. “You might have rolled the dough yourself.”

“I might have,” You tilted your head. “But I do as my father bids me. As you vowed to do, did you not?”

She huffed and left you. Godwin appeared with a dark cask in hand and lugged it to a table. He wiped his forehead, his lanky arms trembling. “I’ll have the ale shortly, miss,” He panted. “And a tap.”

“Thank you, Godwin,” You said and you didn’t miss his lingering gaze. 

He’d been sweet on you for years, even after you’d rebuffed him at the harvest feast last season. You placed your tray behind the cask and waited. Godwin returned, breathless and beet red as he dragged the barrel. You helped him lift it beside the cask and took the tap from him.

“Go see to the horses.” You said. “Find a brush if you can.”

You watched him go and crossed back to the table of nobles. “I’ve enough wine for you each to have at least a cup and more than enough ale to go around. So what shall I fetch you, my lords? And your highness?” You bowed your head at Prince Loki.

“Wine,” The prince spoke first.

Only one other requested wine and you went about your duty. You served Loki first and then his men. They grew louder as you left them to their drinking and you went through to the kitchen to check in on your measly staff.

“Don’t serve them the heels, you dolt,” Your father snarled at Giles. “And trim the mold off the cheese.”

“Ah, I see, only the finest for the royal prince.” You mused.

“Don’t,” Your father rounded the table. “Help your mother.”

“Your wife,” You insisted once more as you watched Celeste beat the dough.

The door swung behind you as your father left and you neared your stepmother. She seemed as angry at the dough as she usually was at you.

“Don’t you dare touch it,” She warned. “You’ll ruin it.”

“I’ll ruin it,” You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“A prince. Imagine it.” She went on as she folded the dough. “Here, of all places. Just hope your father doesn’t join them for a pint.”

“Ha, as if they’d have him.” You shook your head.

“You’re one to talk about being had,” Celeste hissed. “If we don’t find you a husband soon, I don’t even think the convent will take you.”

“You think my father is a prize, do you?”

The door swung and you turned as you father stomped through. “Aye, what they say has to be true. Sly little bugger. Tongue on him.” He adjusted his belt below his stomach. “Daughter.” He waved to the door. “Go keep the drink flowing. That prince did not think the wine so sweet from my hand.”

“The dessert--”

“Don’t be wise with me,” He warned. “The prince wants you serving his meal this evening. He paid me good coin for it, so go out and see if you can’t get more.”

You hid a scowl and sidled past your father. You wiped the irritation from your brow and returned to the common room. You neared the table and folded your hands over your apron.

“Your highness, my lords? Do you require another round?”

“Do you have water without scum?” The prince asked. “If not, I’ll take some of that milk you dragged in.”

“I’ll fetch you some milk, your highness,” You returned. “And you, sirs?”

“We can work a tap,” The one with orange hair said. “Or figure it out. Thank you, lady.”

“She sweeps the hay, Hugh, she’s not a lady.” The prince snickered. “Milkmaid, I await my second round.”

You did your best to smile, not your best skill, but you tried for fear you might growl. You returned to the kitchen and filled a cup with milk. You skimmed the top and swept back out before your stepmother could notice you. You went back to the prince’s table and set down the cup lightly.

“Your highness.” Another man had risen and bent at the barrel to fill his stein. “Your dinner will be out, shortly.”

“Mmm, I’ve not tasted rabbit since before Easter.” He said. “Always rather unappetizing but you peasants are resourceful.”

“Your highness.” 

You dipped your head and backed away. You stood by the wall and stared at the one opposite as the men’s voices garbled in your ears. You waited until you smelled the roasting meat and you marched to the kitchen. Giles divided the meat onto plates with sliced bread, chunks of cheese and slightly singed potatoes.

You took two and went to the front room to serve. You placed one before the prince first, he watched you with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair and you set the other down carefully. You made another two trips until the table was full and the men were chewing between their bawdy words.

Your father appeared shortly after and asked how the men liked the food. All but the prince kept chewing and grunted in delight. Loki however made a comment about the chewiness of the meat. He was likely right but this wasn’t exactly a royal castle. It was a roadside inn where most of the patrons patched their clothing and would settle for a stick of salted meat and moldy bread.

When their plates were empty, you cleared them and dumped them in the basin in the kitchen. Celeste fretted over whipping the cream as her pastries cooled. She dolloped the cream onto them and acknowledged you with a snort.

“That prince is handsome but a right arse.” She muttered. “Your father said he didn’t like the rabbit. I mixed the seasoning myself.”

“Mm,” You took two plates and turned away. “Well you don’t have to tend to him.”

“If I was your age, he might just like that,” She snipped. “If you didn’t look like you were chewing on salt, he might give you a second glance.”

You didn’t respond and carried on. You delivered the six dishes in several trips and refilled a few steins as the men dug in. The barrel was close to empty, the cask too. They’d made quick work of your father’s meagre fare.

The prince beckoned you over, as he had many times, two fingers flicking you over as your father hovered in the next room by the counter. You went to him and lowered your chin as you recited a “your highness.”

“I would hope to retire soon. A bath should be drawn as well.” He bid.

“Certainly, I’ll have Godwin--”

“You,” He pointed at you with a long finger. “You’re a strong girl, you can handle it yourself.”

“With all due respect, your highness, I think it more appropriate--”

“I think I gave you an order,” He stood and reached to his belt and dug around in his purse. “And it would not go unrewarded. Good service never does.” He flipped the coin then held it out to you. You glared at it.

“Your highness,” Your father approached. “Is there an issue?”

“Not at all, I was only requesting that your daughter draw my bath for the evening.” He smirked. “I did offer her compensation for the task.”

“And she will tend to that immediately,” You father took the coin and your hand and pressed them together. “Right, daughter? You might get the water boiling.”

“Yes, father.” You bit down. “Your highness.”

You drew your hand away and bowed your head. You backed away and quickly skirted off to the kitchen. You snapped at Giles to grab the big pot and send Godwin for water. Celeste grinned up at you as she bit into one of the pastries.

“He is demanding, isn’t he? I’m almost ready to see my own bed for the night since my duties are all done.” She taunted.

“You might do better there. Out of the way of those who actually work.” You jibed.

She flinched and blew cream at you angrily. You kept clear of the mess and Godwin returned with the big pot of water. It was hung in the large fireplace and you waited listlessly for it to boil.

You lugged the first pot up and dumped it into the long tub in the chambers set out for the prince. You descended and repeated the process; another pot up the stairs, steaming up your arms. 

The door was closed that time and you knocked with your toe. The prince opened it, his leather vest half unbuttoned.

“Ah, I did think there would be more to it,” He sneered.

“Your highness.” You said.

He backed up to let you through and you poured the pot into the tub, careful not to splash yourself with the water. He let you back out and your third pot was soon shaking over the flames. When you returned to him again, his vest was gone and his tunic hung low on his chest.

The fourth, and his belt was gone, his tunic too, and his undershirt was all that covered his torso. The fifth, his boots gone, socks too. The sixth, leggings slung over the single chair and he stood in only his undershirt. It hung to his thigh and you feared it might shift a little too much.

“Would you like some cold water to ease the heat, your highness?” You asked as you turned back to the door. 

He was quick, his long legs carried him to the door before you could reach it. He caught the wood and blocked you from the hall.

“I like it hot.” He said. “You can set the pot down and tend to my bath.”

“I have, your highness.” You insisted.

“You’ve filled it, yes,” His brow slanted. “But since I’ve traveled without my attendant, I haven’t anyone to scrub me clean and your inn has done little to cleanse me of the filth of the road.”

“You paid me to bring you water--”

“I paid you a pretty coin for that then,” He interjected, “And I paid your father enough that he told me you are free of your other tasks for the night. You will see to me.” He pushed the door closed. “I know you’ve likely never met a prince before, most certainly haven’t. There’s only two of us.” He loomed over you. “But I trust you know a prince’s word is as good as law.”

He pushed himself away and spun away from you. Your eyes flew up as he grabbed his undershirt and ripped it up over his head. The fabric fluttered to the floor and you clutched the handle of the pot. Your father would sell you like some cattle; you were only surprised he’d waited for a prince to do so.

“Well, put that pot down and grab a sponge. I will soak a while first but I expect you to be prepared. Diligent.” He hummed as he leaned back in the hot water. “I know you are only used to common merchants.”

You were silent. You placed the pot on the floor but stayed by the door. You slowly moved along the wall and went to the pail in the corner of the room next to the low table. You bent and took the sponge from within and the spouted wooden cup. You lingered in the corner and dreaded the moment he would call to you.

“I must admit, I know little of your...bearing. I do tend to avoid the unwashed masses.” The water moved as he spoke. “I mean, your ilk don’t bathe very much, do they?”

“Every Sunday after chapel.” You said evenly. “We gather at the river.”

“We? All of you? Like beasts.” He laughed.

“The women. Children, too. The men bathe during the week.” You explained. “But I suppose a prince might wash more often.”

“I do find the hot water as calming as it is cleansing,” He replied. “Why, it is Thursday. You worked hard today. Another few days is long to wait.”

You squeezed the sponge and pressed it to the cup.

“A prince must be generous,” He began slyly. “So for this day my act of royal charity is to share with you, a common girl, my bath.”

“Your highness, I don’t think--”

“I did not ask and it is unseemly to deny a prince his favour.” He rebuked. “So you get over here and you wash yourself.” He looked over his shoulder dangerously. “I would rather you clean.”

You crossed the room and kept your back to the prince as you passed and stood at the other end of the tub. You placed the cup by the tub and tucked the sponge inside. You straightened and untied your apron. You moved to put it on the seat of the chair. Then you unlaced the collar of your dress and paused. You took a breath before you pulled it over your head.

You bent to loosen your boots. Your stockings were as reluctantly shed. You rose, left with only your shift. The water swirled noisily. Your father had never been much of one. He worked you morning to night, he never thanked you for a deed you did, and he barely noticed your presence unless it served his needs. You weren’t surprised, nor disappointed, you were only annoyed at the circumstance.

You drew your shift up your legs and bunched it in your hands. You tore it off in a final swoop of resignation. You stood, your chest rising and falling, as you stared at the far wall. You gritted your teeth and forced down the nerves.

“Well, that was… dramatic,” He remarked. “But really, the water is bound to cool before you touch it.”

You spun around and marched to the tub. You reached to the brim but refused to look at the water or him. You lifted a leg over the edge and he let out a hum. You lowered your other leg into the steaming water as he sat up.

“Go on,” He said. “Clean yourself. I can smell the sty on you.”

You bent over the side and grabbed the sponge from cup. You focused on wetting it and scrubbing at your skin. You stretched out your arms, lifted one leg then the other, and rubbed your chest raw. Your eyes clung to the ceiling. The water shifted and the shadows around you did too.

He stood and grabbed your hand. He guided it to his chest and kept the sponge moving in circles. You looked at his face as he smirked at you. His other hand tickled your side. He let go of you and you kept going; across his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his chest, his stomach. 

He caught your wrist and squeezed until you dropped the sponge. He pushed your palm to his member; it was hard as he slid his hand around yours and bent your fingers. His touch danced up your back and settled behind your neck as he pulled you close.

“I know you’ve never touched a prince like this before,” He said. “But what about another man? Hmm?”

You gulped as you looked him in the eyes. You shook your head defiantly. He moved your hand up then back down. His cheek twitched and he let out a thick breath. He kept your hand moving along his member as his grip tightened on your neck. He leaned in until his lips almost met yours.

“I’ve never had a woman, princesses, duchesses, ladies, queens, even, look at my the way you do,” He snarled. “And it has me mad.”

“I don’t know what you mean--”

“You despise me. You don’t even know me,” His lips brushed yours. “But you know I am a prince, I am your superior, and you curl your lip at me.”

“I don’t--”

He pressed his lips to yours and kissed you hungrily as the steam floated around your bodies. He kept your grasp firm on him as he carried the motion steadily. He groaned into your mouth and suddenly let go. He held your head with both hands as if to devour you. You stumbled in the tub, held up only by his unbreakable grip.

He parted as his long fingers framed your jaw. His green eyes burned into yours as you gaped at him. He kissed you again, this time nibbling your lip as he drew away. He snarled as he did and his hand slipped down your shoulders and lingered on your chest. He pinched one nipple then the other and his fingers crawled lower.

His other hand settled on your throat as his finger poked between your legs. You squeezed your thighs together and he gave a growl. It was a warning. He slid along your folds and teased your sensitive bud. You gasped as he was close to choking you entirely.

He prodded along your entrance and delved inside. You nearly bit your tongue as you closed your mouth and grabbed his arm to keep from slipping. Your eyes rounded as he grinned. He moved his hand slowly as you felt a ripple along your thighs.

“Inexperienced but not innocent,” He purred. “Darling, you feel wonderful.”

You clawed at his bicep as he rocked his hand against you, your body shaking in tandem. You wanted to hate it. You had to hate it and yet it felt so good.

“Turn around,” He commanded as he ripped his hand from between your legs. “Now.”

He released you entirely and you stumbled back and caught yourself on the side of the sub. He stroked himself as he watched you and spun his finger in the air. You turned, slowly. You leaned heavily on the side of the tub as your legs felt likely jelly and your core pulsed hungrily. You wanted more and yet you wanted to run away.

He slapped your ass. Hard. Your knees buckled. He gripped your hips and steadied you. He stepped closer and rubbed his member against your ass. His hand ran along your flesh and he guided his tip down. He reached your entrance and inhaled suddenly. He held himself there, barely touching you as his fingers curled into your hip.

“It’ll hurt. At first.” He rasped. “But that only makes the pleasure…” He slid past your entrance slowly and you stretched around him. You squeaked in shock. “...greater.”

The deeper he got, the harder it was to measure your voice. He was right about the pain. More, more, more; you feared it wouldn’t stop. When he did, when he reached his limit, you were bent over, hands on the side of the tub, bracing yourself as you were afraid your legs would collapse.

He pulled back and slammed into you again. You cried out, loudly, and clapped your hand over your mouth. He chuckled and did it again. His wet flesh reverberated against yours. He did it, again, again, again. Each time he paused and basked in the sound; basked in your murmurs as you struggled not to scream.

“You are tight, darling,” He groaned. 

You quivered and held onto the tub as your body was jolted by his. He rutted into you quicker and quicker. He was insatiable and each time he thrust, his hunger seemed to deepen. His voice turned animalistic and his fingers got firmer around your hips. The water splashed around your legs and added to the medley of lurid sounds.

You arched your back as the waves swelled within you and you felt them cresting, ready to crash. You hissed through gritted teeth and your voice cracked as you exclaimed. The feeling was overwhelming, the sensation stifling as it filled your veins. Your eyes rolled back and you hung your head as your walls pulsed around his member.

“Ah, darling, I feel you,” His hands slipped up to your waist and he pulled you back against you as he rammed into even harder. “That’s it… bend for your prince.”

He grunted as he bent over you and hooked his arm around your stomach. He stood and drew you up with him. You were on your toes as he jerked into you violently, his other hand on your chest as he pressed his cheek to yours. His voice swirled in your head and added to the heat in your core.

“That’s it, that’s it…” He chanted as his flesh slapped against yours.

You clawed at his thigh as he hammered into you and finally he slowed with a surprised cry. His hips spasmed and you felt a sudden swell of warmth inside of you. You trembled as he slowed and stilled your body. You were breathless but buoyant. You’d never felt so light yet heavy at the same time. He was the only strength left to you as he held you up.

“Well, look at you,” He tickled your stomach with his fingers. “Dirty, all over again.”


End file.
